


do not go gentle into that good night (do not vanish without a fight)

by surely_silly



Series: seven, eight, set them straight [14]
Category: Terror Man, 僕のヒーローアカデミア | Boku no Hero Academia | My Hero Academia
Genre: Alternate Universe, Alternate Universe - Canon Divergence, Alternate Universe - Fusion, Canon-Typical Violence, Gen, Midoriya Izuku Has a Quirk, My Hero Academia: Vigilantes
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-12-20
Updated: 2020-04-04
Packaged: 2021-02-26 04:21:47
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 5
Words: 8,005
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/21857512
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/surely_silly/pseuds/surely_silly
Summary: Izuku will never, ever, be a Hero.
Series: seven, eight, set them straight [14]
Series URL: https://archiveofourown.org/series/843435
Comments: 4
Kudos: 58





	1. the spark

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> *jazz hands*

For as long as Izuku can remember, he's always been very lucky.

Where someone else might get caught in traffic when a villain fight stalls the train lines, Izuku's long since walked home instead. Where it's been a long and depressing day at school and Izuku's tempted to shave off ten minutes by cutting through a dark alleyway on the way home, he knows when to test his luck and when to firmly not. He's always been hilariously lucky when he least needs it, when being too lucky merely makes everything all that much worse, but.

But, the secret?

It's a purple haze, like summer heat against asphalt, and it clings to parts of the world like diseased gas. He's learned to avoid it, to take a left turn when the street to the right is soaked with deep and royal hues. To carefully avoid the bullies only sometimes instead of all the time or the miasma will build up and up and _up_ —

He learns that the hard way, learns many things the hard way, with bloodied noses and scattered bruises. Izuku can only run from so much before his luck catches up with him.

_M-Mama!_ _Mama, no_ —

"I'm h-home," he calls, voice shaky, and sniffs. Something's burning. "Chi-nii…?"

There's a loud curse, and something clatters against the floor and the shrill scream of the smoke detector. Izuku winces, and toes off his shoes. With a rough scrub of his face against the sleeve of his uniform, he inches up the hall on quiet feet and only just barely avoids a towel to the face, a faint shimmer of purple by the kitchen door frame. Izuku peers weakly into the smoke filled kitchen after the cloth splats against the far wall. 

With a fearsome scowl, Chizome stalks past, hair loose from its ponytail and hand waving. "Welcome home," he says, and then coughs, yanks the sliding door to the veranda open with a deafening _crack._ They watch for a moment as the smoke slowly begins to slither out. "Let's eat out for dinner, what do you want?"

Immediately, Izuku says, "Katsudon," and flushes at the smirk Chizome gives him, used to the rather gruesome way it pulls at the ruined planes of his face but not the way it always manages to make him feel like a child.

_Akaguro-san will be taking care of you from now on_ —

"The mall it is," he says, and flaps a hand at Izuku, tugs the mask under his chin to place. "Shoo. Only losers wear their uniform to the mall."

Izuku ducks his head, hiding a squiggly smile, and the words don't sting. There's no malice there because for all that Chizome believes him to be a crybaby and wimp? He never pushes too hard, never says anything actually cruel. It's a strange sort of care, and Izuku's hesitant even now to call it a familial love. He's a duty, a burden. It's nothing like what he had before, so long ago, but it's all he has, will have.

It's got to be enough. 

With a sigh, Izuku does as told, and it's all too quickly that he finds a helmet tossed carelessly into his hands, divested of his uniform and bookbag for other clothes. He barely withholds a grimace when Chizome parks his motorcycle in front of him, and flips his own helmet's visor up.

"Can't we take the train?" he protests, and swallows thickly at the bland look he's given. "Not… Not that there's anything wrong with this, o-of course…"

"Get on the bike."

Izuku gets on the bike.

With a dull roar, the engine comes to life, and Izuku just manages to buckle the helmet on before Chizome kicks off. Izuku yelps, and clings as they start to lean, taking a corner, and then gain momentum. The wind is a muffled whistle in his ears, and it all blurs together as he squeezes his eyes shut, and tightens his hold. He's still curled tight when, eventually, Chizome plucks at his fingers.

"Izuku, we're here; I need to go park," he says, definitely amused, and Izuku shakily frees himself, hands the helmet back. "Go find us a seat."

And then he's gone. Izuku can feel the curious eyes of others crawl along his neck, and he despairs of Chizome. A motorcycle won't up his cool factor, no matter how often he's seen getting off of it and not actually _driving_ it. Izuku would rather not happen upon any of his classmates anyway, let alone a _teacher._

Because then they'll show up at home _again_ and express their concern about the unfortunate company Izuku is apparently keeping. To Chizome's face, _again,_ and. And nobody wants that, seriously. 

Izuku sighs, breathes in a lungful of the wafting scent of cooking food, and ducks his head before going inside. Through the doors, and then down he goes, passing blurred faces and anyone who might know him. The food court isn't packed and the steady stream of people underground shouldn't swell much more, not at this time of day. So with minimal apologies, he slinks through the crowds and has barely secured a table when Chizome appears at his elbow.

It's always a mixed bag when they eat out. People like to stare, dart horrified but fascinated looks at Chizome as he eats. It doesn't bother him though, and, as he tugs the mask down to his chin after they've gotten their food, a surge of green envy twists a knot in Izuku's throat at such easy confidence.

_Hey, why don't you take a swan dive off the_ —

With more force than necessary, Izuku splits his chopsticks, effectively derailing that ugly memory, and mumbles a quiet, " _Itadakimasu._ "

Undeterred, Chizome hums, and flips the strips of beef over on his hot plate. "How was your day?"

Izuku shrugs a shoulder. "Same as always…" he mutters, and hates it. 

The same as always. He's still essentially 'quirkless' but with… with being in high school, most have forgotten the rest of the nickname. Just not his uncanny luck at games. It keeps most of the bullies off of him when they can make easy money by pushing him around and into copious amounts of rounds of rock-paper-scissors. 

They like it when he wins them money, and Izuku likes it when they don't shove him down and mock him for his muttering. Is it win-win? Not really, but it's… better than middle school by a long stretch.

"Yes or no... want me to talk to them?"

No. Absolutely not. Izuku can… can fight his own battles, lose his own battles. "Just… be there for me?" he offers, a much more honest request, and picks at a slice of meat. "It's, it's okay. Thank you."

Chizome arches an eyebrow, clearly disbelievingly. "As you wish," he says, solemn and dark, and the hairs along Izuku's neck prickle, his gaze skittering away.

It's not unfair to assume if Izuku ever said yes… that his tormentors would disappear. At least, that's how it feels in these rare moments when he _knows_ Chizome is— _was_ —more than just a scary nanny. There's just no need to ask, and Izuku doesn't want to ask; there's no point, no need to rock the calm waters of his otherwise plain life.

 _Coward,_ his own mind hisses, and it's true. Just another thing Izuku hates about himself. Always running away.

_Shitty Deku, like this was going to turn out any other way_ —

Izuku hisses, and jerks the bit of pork away, tongue stung. There's an amused huff, but he ignores it to puff a stream of air across the food. Cooler, he bites it in half, and chews, eyes on the rising steam of Chizome's sizzling beef. No thinking, just katsudon.

Time passes this way. Bite after bite, the food slowly disappears, and Chizome has acquired a bright red smoothie by the time Izuku is considering the last slice of crispy pork, quirk activated in the hopes he won't choke. He's nodding along to scathing remarks about the guileless flock grazing around them, the inherent flaws to the popularity contest they call society, when something flickers in the corner of Izuku's eye.

He tilts his head, the meat bumping against the side of his mouth, and Chizome's words fade into the background with the rest of the world. The silence in Izuku's head fizzles with the growing pitch of white noise as the barely there lick of purple shivers before his very eyes. It twists, seems to struggle at the crevice where wall meets floor before the fire escape, and then—

_Then—_

Suddenly, all Izuku can see is purple. A verifiable sea of it unfurling like a flower to sunlight up the wall and over the floor, the ceiling and just _e v e r y w h e r e._

" _...Izuku?_ "

Everything's purple. It's all he can see, and even when he looks down, it's swallowing up the space beneath his feet and spreading. 

Izuku drops his chopsticks. Oh. _Oh. Oh God_ —

A sharp prick of pain draws him back into the now, derails the rising horror and his collapsing thoughts, and all of the sound rushes back in.

Chizome frowns at him, and let's go from where he'd pinched the back of Izuku's other hand. "You alright?" he asks, eyes narrowing, and the purple clouds over his face. "Did you… see something?"

With a wounded noise, Izuku shoots to his feet, the table clattering, and is it everywhere? Is it just here, in the basement, or is it _everywhere?_

A shout follows him, but it's a whisper to the thunderbeat of his heart, a roar in his ears, and he's away and taking the stairs two at a time, up and up and purple and purple and _purple_ —

"It's, it's everywhere," he gasps, staggering to the top of the steps, and everywhere he looks the world is violet and lilac and lavender and so deep in places it looks like raspberry blood. 

Why? Why is everywhere unlucky? Izuku's never seen most of these shades before, not this deep and not this vivid, and no matter where he turns his eyes, where his feet take him, there's more and _more._

"A villain attack…?" he mutters, eyes skipping around, across the milling people, but. No, that can't be it, not the entire building, right? "Then what—"

From above, there is a sharp _crack._

Izuku freezes, heart stuttering at the dust that flies, and looks up.

Like a chasing hand, a fissure splits with branching fingers across the ceiling, creeping out and out. Izuku holds his breath, fear pinning him to place, and for a long moment after it stops, he still can't move, eyes on the weeping vein of wine.

This is bad. Very, very _bad._ "A h-hero," he stammers, gasping for breath, and. And he's come here enough, he knows the routes and who should theoretically be on patrol. Help. He should get _help._

And he tries. By God, does he _try._

Each breath is overly loud in Izuku's ears, hot and damp, and his heart pounds furiously against the backside of his ribs as he goes up, and then up and up, and then back down, down, down. He only stumbles to a stop back where he started, directly beneath the looming danger and just. 

Just _looks._

This is a large mall, a prime target unprotected, and there isn't a single hero within sight, not a single hero on their usual patrol. 

Not an inch unmarred by the stifling and horrifying aura of clear misfortune.

 _Where is everybody?_ he wants to cry, and spins slowly in a circle. He's useless, utterly worthless, and no one's going to listen to him, a nobody. Izuku can't save them, he can't, so. So he should just run away, right? He should find Chizome and just _run,_ right?

He should—

"Oh!" says a voice, and Izuku staggers back a step with the force of the shoulder hitting his, trips, and then doesn't hit the floor as a hand grabs his arm and hoists him back upright. "Oh, man I'm so sorry, I really didn't mean to do that!"

There's a smattering laughs, and through the haze he can barely see that the girl is pink and dark eyed, familiar. All of them are. Izuku can feel any and all words shrivel at the back of his throat because. Because even out of uniform, who _wouldn't_ know of Yuuei's shining class, 2-A.

Their names sound off like a teacher on roll in his mind because that's Sero Hanta with his tape quirk, and Kirishima Eijirou with his hardening quirk. Jirou Kyouka with her earphone jacks, and Kaminari Denki and his electrification. Ashido Mina and her acid, all of them blinking at Izuku. 

Maybe. Maybe they can help? Maybe—

"Man, Ashido-chan, you gotta watch out for those guns," Kaminari jokes, and elbows her in the side. Izuku can barely make out the yellow of his hair. "Look, you short-circuited the poor guy!"

But the words won't come out. Why would they believe him? He could just tell them to look up but what would that prove? The crack could have already been there. 

Again, they all laugh, and Ashido huffs. "Well, I didn't, so, there," she pouts, and rubs at her neck, directs a sheepish smile at Izuku. "Sorry again, honest."

 _This could have been me,_ he thinks, even though, no, not really, and he— he can't—

The purple thickens on Kirishima.

Izuku aborts a strangled gasp, and just manages a jerky nod, a halting, "I, I have to go; y-you should too," and skirts around them, heart fit to bursting. He can just hear a faint, " _... What?_ " from behind and then a somewhat louder, " _Hey, hey, Bakugou_ —" before Izuku's all but running. 

He tried to be a hero, and he failed, utterly crashed and burned. Izuku isn't a hero, can't be a hero, and that was made very clear to him. So there's no reason to try.

" _—itty Deku?_ " 

Izuku doesn't stop; he turns the corner, and then another and then another and then he's going down and—

"Izuku!" snaps a voice, and a hand grabs his arm, pulls him in. For a blind and panicked second, Izuku fights it before an arm wraps tight around his shoulders. "Izuku, what's wrong?"

Chizome. _Chizome._ Izuku sags, all of the fight fleeing him, and squints up at Chizome's worried scowl. "I, I think we should g-go home," he stutters, and doesn't fight as he's bodily walked along. "Like… right now."

"Oh yeah?" Chizome says. "Why? Did you see something?"

_H-Hurry, Izuku, please… p-please run away_ —

Izuku shudders. "The, the whole building," he whimpers, eyes closing briefly, and Mom's bloodied face flashes in that fleeting dark. "The whole building is purple, and… and all of the heroes and security are gone."

Chizome considers that, a resounding hum that Izuku can feel through his shoulder. "And you think there's nothing to be done? That there's nothing a crybaby like you can do?"

The words don't sting. "Y-Yeah…"

Just like back then, Izuku's utterly use—

"Even with me here?"

—what?

He blinks, and then tilts his head back, but Chizome's staring ahead, walking them along. "W-What?" Izuku croaks, and watches as Chizome pulls out his phone, unlocks it.

"Do you want me to help you herd the stupid sheep to safety?" he asks, thumb hovering over the screen. "Yes or no?"

Izuku opens his mouth, _how_ and _why_ nipping at his lips, but instead, he says, "I, I don't want all of these people to die. Not even—" and cuts himself off, ducks his head. _Yes or no?_ "... Yes. _Please._ "

With a nod, Chizome presses on the screen, and then tucks the phone to his ear. "Alright," he says, and then after a moment, "Hey, it's me. The kid needs support."

There's a long pause, and Izuku blinks at the sudden gloom, only just realizing where Chizome's taken them. The parking garage looms faintly lit, and the purple is harder to see but it's here too.

"Here," Chizome says, stopping by his bike, and shoves his phone at Izuku, other arm slipping off his shoulders. "Say your name."

_Not even_ —

Izuku takes a breath. "M-Midoriya Izuku," he says, and. 

And, almost immediately, there's an awed, " _LOV accepts your quest,_ " and the unmistakable sound of the person on the other end hanging up.

"Um," Izuku says, bewildered, and Chizome pockets the phone.

"Give them a moment," he says, and Izuku barely has a second to nod before the lights flicker.

Before there's a thunderous _crash_ and Izuku nearly hits the floor from the sudden gust of dust and debris at his back. He whips around, heart beating rabbit quick, and balks at the now crushed row of cars, broken concrete laying flat the roofs and glittering with shattered glass. Bile itches at the back of his throat, and Izuku clutches helplessly at his face as the fog seems to thicken all around them.

 _Twenty minutes,_ whispers his mind, all of the haze fading, and all Izuku can see now is Mom's smile, blood running down her face and her hand flung out. 

Then the rocks fall, and she's gone.

"Izuku," says a voice, and a hand curls on his shoulder. "Izuku, this will end differently. Trust me."

How? How could this end without unmitigated death? Izuku can't imagine it any other way, but. 

_Trust me._

Another shudder. "Okay," he says, and Chizome squeezes his shoulder once more before letting go.

That moment turns out not to be long at all.

There's a beat, silence, and then like a bat out of hell, a van explodes into the garage trailing black stardust, a comet on four wheels. Izuku's jerked back by the collar of his shirt, and his feet just miss becoming roadkill beneath its tires as it skids into place next to Chizome's bike with a gust of rubber burnt air.

"What the hell," Chizome snarls at the back of the van. The windows are too dark to see through properly, but the passenger's side door flies open, dinging against the concrete support column just between the bike and van, and a man flops out. "Spinner, you almost ran the kid over!"

Covered in green scales and flyaway pink hair, the man scrambles up. "We need more people who can drive; it's not my fault we got the call while I wasn't at the wheel!" he protests, eyes wide, and then the other door opens.

From within, a man slips out, the bright red of his jacket searing even in the low light. His eyes land on Chizome, nearly as red as his coat, and then slide to Izuku, his sneer morphing quickly with glee. It stretches the scars on his face, and Izuku can't help but compare them to Chizome's and find them lacking, somehow.

"You're lucky Mustard likes to show off how smart he is," the man says, blue hair almost glowing in the gloom. He kicks the door shut just as the other man— _Spinner?_ — darts closer. "Otherwise we certainly wouldn't carry munitions like this like some sort of wandering merchant shop, Mini-Boss."

_What?_

Chizome ambles forward, unruffled by the clear dismissal. "Right," he says, and Izuku can only watch as Spinner flings the door up and open, pulls out what looks like two swords to offer on bended knee to him. "That's… not the right type of firepower we need right now."

"Aw," Spinner says, and puts them back before stepping aside. "I miss seeing you in action, Stendhal-sama."

_Stendhal-sama?_

"Come on, I'm sure the clock's ticking," the other man says, beckoning Izuku closer with a half-gloved hand. "Less time means less rewards."

Swallowing, Izuku shuffles closer, close enough to see the gleam of metal hidden in the belly of the van. He can only stare as Chizome picks up a shiny rifle, weighing it, before turning back around. 

"Here," he says, and offers it like he might Izuku lunch. "If we can't get them to leave nicely, we'll just have to make them."

 _Make them…?_ he thinks, and the gun is in his hands, surprisingly light. _With this? With, with a gun?_

"Can't, can't we just…" he starts, and then trails off because, no. No there wasn't even any security around, who would they even call to falsely threaten? The closest patrol route outside the mall will take at least fifteen minutes to reroute here, and it'll take too long. _Something's wrong_. "There's gotta be, be another way, r-right? Chi-nii, what… what is this?"

There's a chuckle. "Don't worry, that one's just pellets," Spinner says, and Izuku looks up just in time for a mask to be sat over his head, flattening his hair and hiding it from view. The man hums, considering the large and heavy thing over Izuku's head before snatching it back for something smaller. "Try not to shoot anyone in the face and they should be alright. Probably. Here, put this suit on over your clothes."

Blinking through the clear acrylic, Izuku swings fretfully around, breath hot against the rubber, and he doesn't know what to do, what to say. "Chii-nii," he tries again, and hates how pitiful it sounds. 

From the side of the van, Chizome reappears, but his casual clothes are gone, replaced with all black except for a red standard a lot like the scarf around Spinner's own neck. A mask that must match Izuku's own, hides everything but his eyes and just the bushy and prickly tail of his hair. "Put the suit on, Izuku," he says, voice turned strange by the filters, and.

Izuku puts the suit on, zips up the front, and still, what is he doing? What are _they_ doing? Who are these people, and why does Chizome know them?

"—moke grenades. Also, extraction after all is said and done. Think Kurogiri can pick up my bike and drop us at home, Shigaraki?"

'Shigaraki' waves a hand. "Anything for him," he says, and his eyes cut to Izuku, then beyond. "... We'll look into this, see who's acting outside mission parameters."

And, that seems to be that. Chizome nods, and turns back to Izuku, his own gun in hand. Spinner offers a lumpy plastic bag, and he takes it before holding it out to Izuku. 

"This is your last chance; yes or no, are you ready?" 

_No,_ Izuku wants to sob, and tightens his hold on the gun. This isn't what he wants, not how he wants to go about this. None of this is right, not something a hero would do, not at all. He's not a, a—

_But you're not a hero, are you?_ hisses the hateful part of him. _So what's it matter? You proved to them just how worthless you really are, didn't you? Always running away, and away and away_ —

He just doesn't want all of these people to die. 

_We're not going to hurt anybody,_ Izuku tells himself, _just going to scare them, get them to leave._

They're not going to hurt anyone.

"Y-Yes," he says, and the other two men grin. Chizome's eyes are wide as Izuku gingerly takes the bag. "Yes, I'm… I'm ready."

_I don't want anyone to die._

"Okay," Chizome says, shakes his head, and hefts his gun. "Let's begin."

_I'm sorry, Mom._

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I've been wanting to write this fusion for like two years now! And finally, I did it! Man, Terror Man is such a fun comic... read it, if you can!!
> 
> Happy holidays!! And a New Year!!


	2. the catalyst

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> *jazz hands*

Later, Mina will think it all very strange, but.

But, in the moment, Kaminari's just stung her with a weak zap, his laughter pitching high with a bitten off shriek as she jabs a finger in his side, when there's a _pop, pop, pop!_

Everybody freezes, startled, and then there's a scream, screaming, and someone yelling, " _There's a fire!_ " and " _H-Help!_ "

 _Huh,_ she thinks, and immediately everyone is on their feet. A rush of people come running down from the floor above, yelling and crying, and Mina's heart jolts, begins to race.

" _It's a villain!_ "

Kirishima curses somewhere off to her left, and they all hesitate. None of them have their licenses, not yet, and it's a murky period between passing the exam but not having received the physical proof. They can't act without explicit approval, and already they've toed that line with the school.

"Aren't there heroes who patrol this area?" Jirou says, and she's right. There should be some who do; it's too large and transitory a place for there not to be any. "If we can find them they can give us the okay? If they need us?"

Bakugou sneers, his hands popping faintly, dour mood souring further. "Evacuate the civilians first, Earlobes," he says, and that's a much better idea, better than wading against the crowd to look for a pro. "Let's go."

They go, but it's all weird. More and more people stream down from above, scared and panicked, but there's no telltale shaking or shouts to suggest a fight of any sort. There's no one in uniform in the crowd, and it barely needs directing at all. The more Mina scans the slowing masses, the more she becomes certain in her growing unease because there's no security mixed into the crowd either, barely any visible injuries. It doesn't make sense.

"What are you doing?" Kirishima shouts over the noise, but still the crowds are slowing, stumbling to a stand still. "We all gotta get out of here; keep moving!"

From somewhere ahead, the crowd echoes, "The doors are locked!"

_What?_

"I got it!" Bakugou yells back, and the crowd starts to part, scrambling out of the way when again there's a _pop!_

Smoke begins to fill the air, and the civilians scream. A woman stumbles in the cloud, a phone clutched tight in her hand, eyes squeezed shut as people scatter.

 _Not on my watch!_ Mina thinks, and with a furious shout, she leaps from her place on the raised bed of foliage. She lands almost right on top of the canister, the smoke muddying her vision with tears, and draws back, _kicks._

It sails, arcs with a dusty trail of smoke, and rebounds squarely off the head of what must be the villain. There's a muffled yelp, and they stumble, gun swinging, and Mina grasps for the blinded civilian. She hooks an arm under the older woman's, and pulls the other back, acid dribbling down her wrist. Guns are rare, close to mythical in use in villain fights, but it can't withstand her acid. If she can just buy a few minutes, anything for Katsuki to blast down the doors, then it should be enough.

It’s got to be enough.

"Nice form, kid," warbles a voice, and Mina jerks, turns her head as the woman is plucked from her hold. The barrel of a rifle stares Mina down. "You have a death wish or something, though?"

Sweat gathers at her brow. Villains, as in more than one. _Not good._ "Thanks," she drawls, heart beginning to race. The woman gasps pitifully in the villian’s hold, arms pinned behind her back, coughs sputtering and harsh. "Just let her go, alright? She's just a civilian."

They chuckle, and tip the gun around, barrel to the woman’s temple. “Hey, I’m the bad guy here, I make the decisions,” they say, and dig the muzzle in harder, her head tipping to the side with the force, long black hair casting over like a dark curtain. Any and all words die a quick death at the back of Mina’s throat at her wide, wet green eyes. “Now, why don’t you be a good little lamb and—”

" _W-Watch out!_ " a strange voice yells, and there's the unmistakable _crunch_ of something giving way. 

Everything dims, and Mina doesn't have time to react. The villain throws the woman away, and lunges, gun casting aside. They slam into her. Acid flies, and then they're rolling. Mashiro would be proud of how she twists, manages to spring free of the villain's grasp and onto her feet, scuffed but none the worse for wear, the woman staggering clear in the corner of her eye.

The villain, not so much. 

Where her acid caught them across the chest and shoulder, melting through the black jumpsuit, she spies a black flak vest and burned pale skin, corded muscle. Despite how much it must hurt, they're pushing themselves up quicker than Mina likes. The gun's gone, out of sight or otherwise, she's not sure, but.

 _Definitely don't want to get in a fist fight with this guy,_ Mina thinks, breaths coming quick, and finally glances back.

The floor above is now below, broken concrete and shattered displays, ruined light fixtures. Did the villains do that? What's their aim? None of this makes sense; why push them out of the way…?

There's just no more time to think. Noise erupts, another _pop, pop, pop,_ and Mina jerks away from the smoke grenade that lands between her and the hurt villain. The mad rush of running feet sounds from behind her, the familiar gust of superheated air, but something more insidious too.

Above, there's an ominous and ground shaking _boom_ , then—

_Crack, crack, crack!_

Time freezes for an endless second. 

Crouched by their fallen accomplice, the other villain glances up at her, eyes just visible through the spewing smoke and gas mask, large and afraid. If she'd had the seconds to spare, Mina would have demanded: _Why are you scared? What's the point of all of this? Where are the Pros?_

_Why did you save us?_

But she doesn't.

_C r a c k !_

So she can't.

Everything shakes, the world groaning, and that same strange, distorted voice screams, " _Run!_ "

Later, Mina will think it all strange, not quite right, but in that moment, heart in her throat, all she can think to do is _run._

_Why did you save us?_

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I wonder who that green eyed lady is...


	3. the fuel

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> *jazz hands*

Around them, the world is coming undone. 

Chizome can barely hear Izuku over the _crack, crack, crack_ , can barely see the fleeing baby heroes through it all. Dust flies and not too far away more of the ceiling caves in. _Crack, crack, crack!_ Behind this mask he can't help but grin, the pain a distant horizon. Black begins to flit around them like particles and stardust to the beginning of a star, condense, roil and whirl as they suddenly sink.

A thunderous roar chases them into swirling darkness, a purple so deep it's almost black. Arms grab Chizome tight, press hard against his burned skin, and he twists, pulling Izuku over, and then there's light and noise. The ground meeting his back kicks the breath from his lungs. It hurts, and any other time he'd laugh, relish the feeling of this forgotten high, but he can feel Izuku tremble across his chest, a muffled sob. 

"Hey," Chizome croaks, a shout in the sudden quiet of their home, and rubs a hand along Izuku's back. "Hey, I'm okay, stop with the waterworks already; it's annoying."

It's an ugly truth, but he'd hated the brat in the beginning. The hero worship grated on his nerves, tested the limits of his very patience, and, God, the _crying._ What was he supposed to do with a grieving kid, anyway? A kid that sobbed with a damn smile on his face and tried his best to hide the scattered burns and bruises? A kid the world was determined to designate basically quirkless and useless just because of his too subtle a quirk?

Chizome always just wanted to pick Izuku up and shake him, shake out the naivety and the self-doubt, just absolutely throttle that _Kacchan_. He knew, _knows_ , the kid's too smart for his own good. There were a million and one ways for him to get his foot in the door to the putrid pro hero industry if he hadn't put all of his eggs in Yuuei's basket and had an ounce more of self confidence.

He wishes he'd been able to feel more than furious validation when the harsh reality of life slapped the kid down, but.

But that was then, and this is now. Izuku failed that stupid, rigged exam and Chizome was left with the bare bones of the kid from barely the morning before it. The naivety? Gone. The self-doubt? Eating him alive even now. It's been a long two years and some change since he last had to listen to Izuku recount a villain fight he managed to witness, wax poetic justice for the hero's quirk. 

Chizome lives with an ugly quirk, but both of them had the potential to be useful to society's rabid notions of Good, and. And he hates to admit it even to his own thoughts, but Chizome might have nurtured a fledgling of hope for the wimpy brat he now calls his own. He wasn't surprised, just disappointed, and still so very _angry._

"I'm, I'm so sorry," he cries, and Chizome can't see his eyes for the fogging of his mask. "This is a-all my f-fault."

With a sigh, Chizome pushes down the rage, the bloodthirst, and sits up. "You need to stop taking on the guilt for things that aren't your fault," he grumbles and yanks his own mask off before Izuku's too. His snot smeared face leaves much to be loved, but this is Chizome's life. "What did you expect? Sunshine and daisies? Those people thought they were running for their lives; I'm just surprised those heroes in diapers took charge."

He'd liked the look in that pink girl's eyes. Hopefully the inherent infection of her chosen profession won't ruin her.

"W-We should have just, just ran away," Izuku protests, sitting back onto the floor, and Chizome knows he doesn't mean that. 

All too often Chizome wishes for that insufferable brat back, the one who adamantly promised the world he'd be the hero who would always be there for those who needed him— _like... like_ _All Might!_ —the one who jumped into every fight he saw because of some sort of internalized guilt for things out of his control. What was Izuku supposed to do, anyway? He'd seen the looming misfortune of that ridiculously giant robot and bolted before anyone else had even known to run. Nothing wrong with picking your battles.

Chizome learned that a little bit late in life. It's only by the grace of _him_ that he didn't end up dead in a ditch somewhere in the countryside, picked apart by the crows and forgotten. Only _just._

"Shut up," he says, and ruffles the kid's hair, ignores how even the air irritates his skin. Izuku winces, blinks at him only slightly wounded, and shuts up. "All of those stupid sheep are alive only because you decided to make it happen, and they won't ever even know it. They lived because of you, and only _you_."

Finally, _finally,_ it seems to sink in. Izuku stares at Chizome, still dripping with tears, but the sheer relief is clear to see in his too green eyes. 

"No… No one died," he whispers, and shudders, ducks his head. Izuku presses his forearm to his eyes, inhales with a gasp. "I'm, I'm so g-glad—"

Chizome still doesn't like the crying, but what's a guy to do? Slicing up the problem hasn't been a solution in a very, very long time, and he'd never raise a hand to Izuku. _Never._

But, it was fun. Even though he's sure someway, somehow, the absence of any heroes will get covered up, Chizome likes that they'll figure out someone saved all those people when the heroes didn't. He likes that an awful lot.

"C'mon," he grumbles after a moment, and jostles the kid. "Let's get cleaned up and trash the evidence."

It's over, though. Time to forget and let their lives go back to normal, no matter the itch in his teeth. Izuku surely has questions he won't ask, and Chizome has answers he won't want to give, not unless the kid manages to surprise him one more time.

_From now on, you will look after my son. Take care of him, Akaguro-san, I have plenty of enemies._

For such an ancient devil, he doubts the man expected Izuku to need protecting from himself.

 _Please,_ Chizome thinks, smiling at Izuku's lowered head and curved shoulders. _Please do surprise me again._

The world would tremble, and Chizome would like that an awful lot too.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Chizome isn't a very good person, he's just good to Izuku....


	4. the flame

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> *jazz hands*

" _Sir, can you tell us what happened?"_

On the screen, the man gestures slowly at his patched cheek, and says with a flourish, " _They just suddenly rushed me! Just hit me like this with the rifle!_ " The woman beside him clutches at his shoulder, tears in her eyes. " _All because some little old lady wasn't fast enough!_ "

Rikiya steeples his fingers, watches through lidded eyes as it cuts to a group of Yuuei students, a pink girl with fluffy hair blinking sternly at the camera. " _We were just trying to help people evacuate, but the doors were locked when the villains caught up_ ," she says, voice even, and behind her, her classmates nod along. " _Something_ _shook the building, and the whole place just came down_ —"

"Does anyone know who this was…?" he asks the room at large, lowering the volume of the television, and his only response is the quick and erratic clicks of Tomoyasu at his desk. "No?"

There's an angry noise. "No, Re-Destro-sama," Tomoyasu says through gritted teeth, hunched over and near hidden behind his screens in the corner. "I'm trying to pinpoint the leak as we speak but so far I have _nothing._ "

Chitose tuts, and Rikiya can just imagine the hungry look in her eyes over the conference call. "Our sources on site were baffled as well; they had no time to be the 'heroes,' and there were no injuries except a few minors scraps and the man who was clearly assaulted," she says, and the scratch of a pen on paper filters through the speaker. "The timing is too much of a coincidence, I think. It's as if they knew something was going to happen, and claimed it for themselves."

It's all rather too… clean, to be happenstance, he agrees. Rikiya wrinkles his nose, and considers it. The media's going to vilify them, that much he can be sure of, but he doubts that they actually _were_ villains. The lack of injuries speaks for itself, but with the building gone as designed, no one can account for theft. So, taking out the destruction, even vigilantism is looking more likely because, well.

In the end, villains and vigilantes are cut from the same cloth, dissatisfied persons that society's doubled down on for one reason or another. They either saw a problem and wanted to fix it, or saw the same problem and wanted to make it worse. 

"— _no bodies have been recovered from the wreckage so far_ —"

Rikiya likes that they chose the former. "Be as that may, Curious… see if you can find them," he says, and Koku's agreeing hum is enough for him. Poor man's schedule is almost as packed as Rikiya's. "Perhaps they may like to join our cause."

" _—opinion, there’s got to be more to this. Why would—"_

Sure, they ruined a plan months in the making, but Rikiya couldn't have made it this far without correctly gauging the potential of all his comrades. They'll have another chance, another opportunity, but.

If there wasn't a leak, then it must be the work of a quirk, and Rikiya would very much like to meet them nonetheless.

" _As you wish, Re-Destro-sama_ ," echoes around him.

With a smile, Rikiya smooths a hand over Destro's book, ever present on his desk. "Let us liberate this world," he murmurs, and.

With a triumphant hiss, Tomoyasu jumps to his feet. Rikiya tilts his head, and smiles as the man swipes across one of his screens and the output overtakes the news. "Approximately sixteen minutes before collapse, a van enters the mall parking garage," he says, teeth bared. "We had it blocked off, a couple road detours with burst water mains, and yet. It makes it inside."

It's grainy, perhaps a low quality camera they left untouched and meant to watch the comings and goings of those to the garage, but it gets a clear enough shot up the street. A van barrels into view from within a spiralling disk of black, appearing between one blink and the next, utterly unremarkable in color or creed. It jerks, clearly spotting the barricade, but doesn't stop. Rikiya grins, leaning forward in his seat as it disappears as quickly as it appeared, swallowed up just before it should have crumpled against the security gates.

"Fantastic, Skeptic," Rikiya crows, and claps his hands. From there, it tells them enough; somebody was _already inside._ "Fantastic work as always!"

The world shall tremble; Re-Destro will see to it.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I wrote the bulk of this on the tail end of reading the Meta Liberation Army arc and let me just say... lmao...


	5. the ashes

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> *jazz hands*

When everything's said and done, not much at all is actually done.

Katsuki sucks back on his teeth, and glances out the high window, taps his chopsticks against the edge of his half empty bento. Of course, it's not like anyone's going to tell some provisional license brats anything. That's none of their business, obviously, and he tries to let it go. 

If there was anything even _slightly_ hinky about the attack on the mall, someone has to be doing something about it. It wouldn't make sense if anyone didn't, but as far as he knows, no one is, so it had to be just a run of the mill villain attack, right?

_Right._

Except Raccoon Eyes doesn't think so. Or, at least it was a real fucking weird villain attack.

There were only the lightest of injuries, Pinky being about the most severe and barely that at all. The mall collapsed and not a single person was seriously injured or worse. Real lucky that, given the lack of _Pros._

 _Real fucking lucky,_ he thinks to himself and scowls. 

It'd been barely a glimpse, just about there and gone, but Katsuki hates the way he can still feel how his breath had caught, his heart doing something seriously funny behind his ribs. What, it's been like almost three years now? Feels just like yesterday, irritatingly enough. That same anger and shame and insecurity welling up like it has any business still being around. 

"Shitty fucking Deku," he grumbles, and grabs at the top to his lunch to seal it back shut, appetite gone—

_— like this was ever going to turn out any other way. You should've just jumped off a roof already and saved us all the trouble!_

What an awful fucking brat he was to have ever said that, not once but _twice_ , and Deku just took it. Just stared at him wide-eyed and so useless, the coward, and that'd been it. He'd comepletely faded into the background of Katsuki's life, no longer a ghost hovering along the fringes, and he hadn't noticed nor cared until he'd had the rug ripped ruthlessly out from under his feet. 

High pollen and the bitter cold of Winter serve as nasty reminders now, his lungs aching with scars that will never really heal. Fucking fugitive Sludge villain, stupid dawdling Pros, and that freaky brain villain that attacked the USJ. All of that and Aizawa kicking his legs out from under him. He was only the biggest fish in a little pond before Yuuei, and it took way too much time and effort to get that beat into his thick skull.

It's disgusting that he froze, surprised and too slow. Then, Deku was gone _again,_ shitty luck quirk, toe joint, and all. 

It niggles at Katsuki, though. What the nerd apparently said.

_I have to go; you should too._

The hell's that supposed to mean anyway? It's suspicious, whatever it meant, but Katsuki can't wrap his head around the loser being involved in any of that, but. His quirk, luck based or something, Katsuki never got the exact details, made Deku _lucky._ Not all the time, just sometimes. Maybe that had something to do with it? Was he warning them or something? 

Katsuki almost wishes he knew more about the loser's quirk now, but really, who's to say. 

Time changes people. 

With a huff, he stretches his arms over his head, leaning back briefly in his chair. Katsuki barely twitches when the door to the classroom slams open, and some of the extras that dare call themselves his friends tumble in. Peaceful lunch ruined, as usual. Raccoon Eyes is the first to hop up to his desk, and he jerks back in his seat when she shoves her phone in his face.

"Bakugou-kun, look!" she chirps, grinning. "A reporter wants to interview us!"

With a snarl, Katsuki leans away. "I can't read jack with you so close, Pinky," he snaps, and the screen is drawn away from the tip of his nose. "The hell I wanna talk to more reporters for anyway."

Pikachu takes that wrongly as his cue to flop into the seat in front of Katsuki, charger bits tucked in the corner of his mouth. "It's the lady Mina-chan saved," he says, halfway mumbled, as he makes room on the desk for the three phones he's obviously been hassled into charging at the expense of Katsuki's bento. "She wants to ask about what happened during the attack on the mall."

"She's tough for a civilian!" Shit-for-hair quips, crouching at Pinky's side. "She'd been pretty roughed up in the end there, and it's been, what, a week and a half?"

"Exactly!" 

Katsuki curls a lip. "What more could we tell her than what we already told the other Pros and police? Who does she work for?"

With a frown, Raccoon Eyes leans back, and thumbs up the phone screen. "Um, she's an independent journalist, but apparently she didn't think we were being asked the right questions. Not sure how she knows that…" she says, trailing off, squinting. "Her name is Tsukauchi Makoto, like that detective; think they're related?"

"Could care less," Katsuki says, and shoves his bento safely away before it can be knocked to the floor. 

"Dude, don't you wanna know what she wants to know?" Shit-for-hair whines, face half hidden by the edge of the desk. "It couldn't hurt to just talk to her; she even said we could do it less than a block away, that she'll come to _us_ , and lunch would be on her!"

That does conveniently remove the new need for a chaperone. Katsuki doubts any of the teachers would agree to it, anyway. Not that he'd want to put All Might in any position given his _condition._

"I was thinking she might like to know about that guy, you know the one we bumped into? Figured that might be important, since we really didn't get much extra in edgewise during all the questioning," Raccoon Eyes mutters, and Katsuki can't help the way he stiffens in surprise because.

Because of course they noticed it too. They'd have to be about as bright as rocks to not have thought about it. _Of course._

All of their eyes snap to attention, hungry at the accidental slip of blood in the water. 

This is _exactly_ why Katsuki hates them.

"Do you know him?" Pikachu asks, leaning forward. "You were in such a nasty mood after he ran away—" 

Katsuki's foot catches his shin, and Pikachu squeaks, cords falling from his mouth, and curls over the top of the desk, defeated. Shit-for-hair twitters with a laugh, and rubs the other boy's shoulder. Raccoon Eyes's stare doesn't waver.

"Don't make me get Sero-kun," she threatens, because he's even more annoying when paired with Pikachu with that stupid, wide _grin_.

With an aggravated hiss, Katsuki straightens in his seat. "Fine, whatever, I knew him," he spits, looking away. "But I don't anymore, so screw off."

He doesn't.

He doesn't know who Deku—

No. No, he doesn't know who Midoriya Izuku is anymore. He hasn't had the privilege for a very long time. 

_What the fuck, you shitty nerd,_ Katsuki thinks, only halfheartedly, and refuses to wonder if the blame can be laid squarly at his feet.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Dun-dun! I struggled to end this, wrote a whole other chapter that didnt really fit, since i was gonna end it last chapter, but! yeah! Anyway, I'm gonna add another chapter soon just to dump the rest of the ideas I had but this is the end! Thanks for reading! 
> 
> Stay safe out there! <3

**Author's Note:**

> Thanks for reading! Comments and kudos (even as comments!) are always welcome!


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